Abuse: The Complete Trilogy (37 page)

"Life in Lubbock,
Texas taught me two things: One is that God loves you and you're going to burn
in hell. The other is that sex is the most awful, filthy thing on earth, and
you should save it for someone you love."

— Butch Hancock

~~~

Grant
Wilkinson

“Look at me,
darlin’,” I say, trying to hide the overwhelming surge of love I feel for her
with a tone of command.

Her eyes lock
onto mine as a surge of carnal energy passes between us. Renata’s lips part to
inhale deeply. I adore the passion that’s reflected in her face and on her
flushed, voluptuous body. There’s such urgency in her expression.

“Good girl. I
want to put my fingers inside you, but I don’t want you to climax yet. Will you
do that for me?”

Her eyes
silently beg me as they blaze with raw hunger. “I don’t know… if I … can,” she
says, breathlessly.

“You can,” I
assure her. “If you do, I promise to lick your luscious cream up with my
tongue. I’ve never tasted a woman and I really want to taste you.”

Renata whimpers
a soft, sweet plea.

She likes that
idea, knowing that I’ll be her first. I love the way her body responds to my
voice. How Renata responds to
me.

“Do you want my
tongue inside your hot little cunt?”

Her entire body
shudders. “Oh, oh, oh, please!” she begs in a hoarse, throaty rasp.

“Shhh, shhh,
darlin’—I’ll take care of you,” I soothe.

I’ve never said
the word ‘cunt’ out loud
ever.
It’s a bad word, a crass and vulgar word,
but right now it seems damned near perfect. It must sound perfect to Renata
too—judging by the violent response that word triggers. Unless she got hot from
the idea of me tonguing her. Maybe it’s both?

“We’ll start
with my fingers. Don’t move and don’t come,” I say firmly. She’s still meeting
my focused gaze.

When I put my
left hand on her thigh, I receive a jolt of erotic sensation. Jesus, her flesh
is burning hot and impossibly soft under my palm. I can’t believe I’m touching
her

Eyes on hers, I
lick two of my fingers thoroughly.

Renata has
small, feminine hands. My hands are much larger—my fingers are callused, blunt
and thick, much different than her own soft, slim digits. In fact, every single
part of her body is deliciously different. So familiar, yet so foreign.

Panting quietly,
Renata watches as I slowly lower my fingers and shove two of them inside her
snug inner channel.

“Oh, God,” she
moans and thrashes, frantic and needy.

Have you ever
heard the saying, ‘like a hot knife through butter?’ Well,
this
is what
they’re talking about.

Renata’s soft,
slick cunt is easy for my fingers to penetrate, and it sucks them deeply inside
her. Her arousal has made her more than ready. The scorching heat inside her
blows my mind. Her beautiful sex quivers and her inner walls pulse around my
fingers. I adore how forcefully the muscles of her core squeeze me.

Tight as a
silken fist.

Even more blood
pounds into my groin. I briefly imagine how it would feel to have my swollen
shaft where my fingers are—with her inner walls milking and pulsing against the
sensitive head. Her cunt is
desperate for my cock and my cum.

I gasp as an
even stronger spasm of erotic sensation races through my thighs, dick and
balls.

I let my fingers
remain motionless inside of her and bite back a raw, hungry groan. I want that
sensation badly, but it doesn’t matter. Renata's pleasure is my sole focus.

Her breathing
quick and shallow, Renata squirms.

“Be still,” I
chide her. “Just lie there and let me feel you.”

Heavy-lidded,
her pupils flare with lust, dilated almost to blackness. Her cunt trembles and
clenches around my fingers. She’s so turned on. Unable even to speak, she
whimpers pitifully. I love it! I love how she valiantly tries to meet my gaze.
I can tell it’s a struggle for her.

Her toes are
curled and her face is closed up tight with her efforts to avert her climax.

I can’t take my
eyes off of her.

“Jesus, that’s
what you needed, isn’t it?” I ask her. “The feel of my fingers inside you.”

“Yes! Your fingers,
your mouth, your cock—I want
all
of you,” she cries out.

“You’re
squeezing me so tightly,” I marvel. “This is what your pretty little cunt did
to me the day before yesterday, when my cock was deep inside of you.”

Renata’s inner
walls pulse once more. Restlessly, she squirms and moans. Is she going to come?
Motionless, I wait, while studying her. My eyes travel over her ripe, needy
body. I give her a moment to compose herself.

Fuck, she’s
hotter than an M16, after firing off two hundred rounds.

“Do you want to
feel my tongue on you? Do you want me to lick your wet little cunt now?

“Yes, yes!” she
whimpers.

“Then ask me
nicely. Tell me what you need.”

Her blue eyes
blaze with desire. “Please, Grant, please, will you lick my pussy and make me
come?”

“Yes,” I say
huskily. “Look at me. I need to see your face, I need to see it when I push you
over the edge. Will you do that for me?”

“Yes, Grant,”
she sighs.

My gaze still on
hers, Renata’s eyes widen as I generously moisten my lips. Smiling, I bend forward.
She inhales sharply as I put my mouth over her erect clit. Pressing tightly, I
seal my lips over her quivering bundle of nerves, creating a vacuum. I suckle
her slippery nub, pulsing my tongue
hard
against her.

Renata’s whole
body stiffens and her eyes squeeze shut. For one long, breathless moment,
everything suddenly stops. Is she paralyzed? Frozen with pleasure?

“Grant!” she
suddenly calls out on a half-sob.

Renata’s eyelids
flutter, opening and closing until her fierce, sex-glazed gaze returns to mine.
She’s struggling, she can’t hold it back any longer. I want to see her come—I
need to see it
all.

I should give my
verbal approval to allow her to climax, but my tongue is still busily working
her quivering clit. Pumping in and out, I curl my fingers upward.

Her reaction is
instantaneous.

She suddenly
explodes, erupting into a violent climax. Her head thrashes from side to side.
Her body bows and her inner walls convulse, clamping down hard, crushing my
fingers inside of her. I inch back to watch her sex quiver with the force of
her orgasm.

“That’s right,
darlin’,” I gasp, shocked by the ferocity of her reaction. “Good, good, that’s
right, come on my fingers. Let me feel it.”

Impulsively, I
push my tongue inside of her, joining my soaking digits. Her hot, musky essence
floods my mouth. My nostrils flare and I utter a low, guttural groan.

I pull away,
licking her sweet slickness from my lips.

Fuck!
She
tastes incredible.

Renata’s hands
fist the sheets, her muscles are coiled and taut, her face is a mask of
agonized pleasure.

I use my thumb
to press on her clit, while I continue to pump my thick digits rapidly,
slamming in and out of her greedy, wet hole. Digging her heels into the
mattress, she rides my fingers, pushing into them as though her life depends on
it. Her inner walls continue to pulsate against me, gripping and milking my
fingers
hard.

This is a long
climax! Maybe she’s having more than one?

I’m in awe.

I continue to
drive my fingers in and out of her in frenzied strokes, pushing in as deeply as
possible with each thrust. Only my large knuckles prevent me from going in
further.

Renata’s burning
hot core still doesn’t stop. I’m gripped by intense pleasure as she squeezes me
again and again in a series of short, sharp contractions.

The ferocity of
her orgasm triggers my own passionate release—taking me completely by surprise.

“Renata!” I call
out in a harsh, breathless cry.

My heartbeat
thunders in my ears and my chest heaves. With one hand on my pulsing cock, I
stand up. Roaring my ecstasy, I immediately ejaculate over her mound, hips and
thighs.

Renata shakes
and trembles with uncontrollable aftershocks from her powerful release. The
sheets are stained dark from her arousal, the evidence of her climax and mine.

Spent, my legs
can barely hold me upright. Panting, I brace them, forcing myself to stand
strong. Time passes while I remain there, staring at her while trying to catch
my breath. Her body quivers, her pulse visibly throbs in her neck. Her lungs
rise and fall rapidly. She’s panting too.

I watch the
racing pulse in her neck slow, and her breathing become steady. I enjoy seeing
her twitches lessen, then stop.

Renata’s eyes
are closed. Her features—temporarily twisted with the excruciating pleasure of
release only moments before, have utterly relaxed. A small satisfied smile now
curls her lips.

She’s so
beautiful.

Once more, I’m
spellbound. There is nothing shameful about what we’ve just done, in fact, it
was awe-inspiring. I feel as if her intense pleasure fired my soul. Was that an
example of ‘making love?’ It certainly wasn’t sex as I’ve known it.

It was some sort
of magic.

For a moment, I
wonder if she’ll write or visit me if I become incarcerated. It’s a stupid
thought, one I immediately reject.

I’m not going to
jail. Not now. I
can’t
leave. For as long as she’s willing to stay with
me, I
need
to be with Renata.

“Compassion?
Ah, a most selfless emotion. Have you observed how those who have suffered seek
to lessen the suffering of others?”

— André
Chevalier

~~~

Renata
Koreman

I happily sit on
Grant’s bed in the afterglow of my orgasm, contentedly watching him dress. He
has a firm, tight ass, narrow hips, broad shoulders and perfectly sculpted
muscles. Check out those guns! His biceps are huge. I love the corded strength
of his arms.

Is Grant built,
or what? His colorful tattoos enhance the devastating effect he has on me.

I wonder if that
tough, solid, body of his comes from his being in the service. There’s nothing
soft about him. Does he go to a gym now that he's no longer in the military? Is
he a daily exercise freak? He
must
be to maintain that physique. Man, it
really shows.

Lord, he’s
gorgeous!

Grant bends down
to pick up his shirt from the floor. He turns toward me, shooting me a playful
smile. My heart trips, missing a beat or two. His left cheek and a tiny spot on
his neck are rippled by thick, pinkish scars that pull and pucker slightly when
his lips curve upward.

Earlier, I could
tell that smiling made him self-conscious—but he’s not self-conscious now.
Relaxed and at ease, he can be himself with me. My heart warms because I helped
caused this change in Grant. Knowing that I helped him makes me melt into a
puddle of pure happiness.

“You got dressed
pretty quickly,” he murmurs.

I smirk. “I
did.” Lifting a hand, I tuck a wayward lock of blonde hair out of my face and
behind my ear. “I wanted more time to watch you.”

“Really?” His
smile broadens, transforming his features. “Was it worth it?”

“Oh, yeah,” I
say in a flirty voice, breathless just from seeing his smile. “Very.”

Grant laughs, a
joyous sound that makes my heart soar.

The French would
call our carefree interaction,
le jeu de la seduction
—the game of
seduction. This form of flirting isn’t always about getting someone into bed.
Instead, it’s an acknowledgment of a person’s manner, clothes or perhaps their
beauty. It’s a way for even complete strangers to put smiles on each other's
faces and warmth in their hearts.

In my case,
though, I
am
trying to get him into bed!

Grant pulls up
his zipper. The sound is an erotic rasp that makes my stomach flutter. His
bedroom smells of sex and the unique musky male scent
of him.
I love it.

I know the real
Grant now. I’ve seen the man he can be, the man he would have become without
the toxic interference he experienced as a child. He’s all tough, brooding
alpha male, yet he’s generous and kind too.

I understand him
and he understands me.

What is this
glorious bond we share? It’s a strange and remarkable thing. My heartfelt
desire to be near him isn’t simple lust. I adore André, but it’s not the same.
Not even when I was younger and imagined myself to be wildly in love with him.

I've never
experienced
anything
like what I feel for Grant.

We’re so alike,
both tortured by our past.

He
needs me.

My thoughts
return to something André once said.
I have chosen to place two damaged
people together in the hope they may heal each other
. André is a genius.
His plan is working.

Grant bravely
told his secrets, first to André and now to me. I admire him so much.
Continuing to look across the room at this complex, compelling man, I stand up
preparing to leave. I still can’t take my eyes off him. I’m with Grant in his
home, looking after sweet Briley—and I’ll be here for months!

I couldn’t
possibly be any happier than I am right now.

Grant finishes
dressing. His head lifts, his gaze meets mine. He’s standing perhaps ten feet
away from me yet it seems like no distance at all. A jolt of electric
attraction sizzles between us.

Does he sense
how perfectly we fit together? Is it love? Or need? Or is it something else?
Whatever it is, it’s much more than chemistry.

Smiles are
plastered across our features as we gaze at each other for a long, long minute.
I wonder if the naked yearning I see in his expression is the same as the one
on my own face.

I never, ever
want to let him go.

“So, what’s the
plan, Batman?” he finally asks.

I instantly
burst out laughing.

Grant flushes—he
actually
flushes
with embarrassment.

Incredulous to
hear such a silly expression from his normally all-too-serious lips, I repeat
his question,
“What’s the plan, Batman?
Really, Grant?”

He shrugs. “I
had a childhood friend years ago who used to say that. I’ve no earthly idea
where it came from just now.”

“You’re happy,”
I say, a statement of obvious and absolute truth.

“Yes,” he says
simply.

My heart leaps
and there it is again, that miraculous sense of connection.
Yes.
One
little word that communicates so very much. I can read the world into that one
word. Grant is saying that he was scarred and scared. He believed he was a
monster—unloved and unlovable, defensive, isolated and alone.

He doesn’t feel
that way now.

Yes,
he’s
happy.
Yes
, he cares for me.
Yes,
he’s grateful.

Moments pass
while his intense, slate-blue eyes meet mine. His hooded gaze drinks me in,
worshiping me, cherishing me… adoring me.

Sex shattered
Grant’s world, robbed him of trust and caused him a lifetime of shame. Two days
ago, I’d felt shredded by his pain. I wanted to banish the sorrow and
soul-destroying guilt from his eyes.

This
Grant is no longer uncertain or ashamed. He’s opened his heart and learned to
like himself. His acceptance and appreciation feels very much like love.

I clear my
throat of the well of emotion that has lodged there. “Well,” I say, shifting
restlessly and attempting to sound normal, “I thought we might try some basic
touching.”

He frowns and I
immediately sense his barriers rise.

I grin. “But
first, let’s get something to drink and I’ll go check on Briley.”

With a
long-legged stride, Grant exits ahead of me, leading me out of his bedroom. I
love the look of his taut buttocks and the muscular shape and length of his
thighs. Damn, even his walk is sexy.

My stomach
flutters. I doubt I'll ever get enough of this man.

He turns to face
me as I move toward my bedroom where Briley is sleeping. “What would you like?
Orange juice? Coffee? Something else?” he asks.

I blink. For one
long moment I envision a comprehensive example of the
something else
Grant
could provide. Something hot. Something dirty, something raw, primal and
really, really raunchy.

Knock it off,
Renata! Sheesh! Can’t you keep your mind out of the gutter for three minutes?

“Coffee sounds
wonderful,” I manage to choke out, “but it might keep me from sleeping.”
Tilting my head, I add, “Do you have any graham crackers? I’m in the mood for
graham crackers and milk.”

He nods. “I can
do that.”

Briley’s
sleeping soundly on his back with one tiny hand near his mouth. I stare at him
for some time, soaking him in. What will he do with his life? There’s so much
potential in this little person before me.

I listen for his
almost silent breathing and my nostrils fill with his sweet smell. It’s the
clean scent of innocence, new life and endless possibilities.

When I walk
downstairs and into the kitchen, Grant already has graham crackers out on the
table and is pouring milk into two glasses.

“How’s Briley?”
he asks, as he puts the milk back into the fridge.

“Fantastic,” I
reply. “Drug issues or not, his parents must be loving. An unloved child could
never settle in as easily as he has.”

I take a bite of
a cracker and smile at him. “We should take a moment to debrief. I thought our
foray into sexual intimacy went pretty well.” I arch an eyebrow in a teasing
manner. “I’m not complaining, at any rate. What do you think?”

Grant doesn’t
reply. Instead, he slowly and carefully dips a cracker into his milk, takes it
out and eats it.

We grin at each
other stupidly until I do the same, dunking my cracker into my glass.
Unfortunately, my timing's off. Both of us laugh when my graham cracker falls
apart into the milk.

“Do you want
another glass?” he asks.

“Never!” I
protest, using the indomitable voice of a warrior. “Soggy, graham cracker milk
is a hazard but it’s an important part of the whole experience.”

Amused by my
declaration, the corners of Grant’s mouth tug up with humor. We do that
electrically-charged mutual staring thing again. It’s remarkably intense, this
link we’ve forged together.

Finally, he
takes a deep breath. “I think our liaison tonight went well,” he begins and
there’s a rarely seen playful look in his eyes. “With more practice, I believe
that I might even learn to be good at it.”

“Reeeeally?”
I say, drawing out the word. “Even better than that? Because what we did… that
was pretty damned hot.”

“Oh,
definitely,” he says.

He grins in a
smug, horny male,
‘I want lots and lots of sex,’
manner. I’m grinning
the same way, except in a horny female manner.

“I don’t know
how much more I can take,” I tell him, “well, without risking spontaneous human
combustion.”

Laughing, Grant
slouches back in his chair, draping himself over it invitingly. My inner
channel clenches and moisture wets my thighs. Already aroused, my body moves
from a pleasant sensual buzz to instantly being primed and ready for him.

Oh, Lord, this
man is so damned beautiful. I want him so badly. Here.
Now.

But I’ll be
good.

“You know,” I
say, shaking my head. “That tongue of yours…”

“What?” he looks
at me, intrigued.

“Well, it was…
very… talented.”

His eyes widen,
but he says nothing.

I let my gaze
travel over his chest, arms and shoulders. “You’re strong all over, so I was
wondering.” I tilt my head and shoot him a mischievous look, “Can you do
push-ups with that tongue?”

Our eyes lock
for a long moment, then we both laugh out loud.